


Atonement

by DhampirsDrinkEspresso



Series: Redemption [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because Emotional Upheaval, Biting, Coitus Interruptus, Collars, Dom/sub, Dominant Poe Dameron, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotionally Overwhelmed, F/M, Foreplay, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Hair-pulling, Hearing Voices, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Safeword Use, Safewords, Submissive Kylo Ren, Switch Finn (Star Wars), Switch Rey, That's Not How The Force Works, Trauma, they don't actually have sex in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DhampirsDrinkEspresso/pseuds/DhampirsDrinkEspresso
Summary: Children cower against their mothers’ skirts, old women spit at his feet, men clutch at the closest makeshift weapon.It’s as he expected. It’s the least of what he deserves.But always, they are with him. Poe and Rey and Finn.
Relationships: Finn/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Finn/Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe Dameron/Finn/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn/Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, Poe Dameron/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Redemption [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696054
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline note: The first story (Christened) technically happens after this installment. 
> 
> Also, I don't personally feel like this should have an Explicit rating but if you do, please let me know and I will change it. There is kissing, some above the waist touching, and, er, biting, but that's it.

**a·tone·ment**

**noun: atonement; plural noun: atonements**

**reparation for a wrong or injury.**

Most nights, he forces down enough rations to keep his body functioning and collapses into an exhausted boneless heap. He’s lost count of the number of towns and villages, the planets and systems, as his days have become an endless cycle of hard labor and harder glares when he is recognized.

Children cower against their mothers’ skirts, old women spit at his feet, men clutch at the closest makeshift weapon.

It’s as he expected. It’s the least of what he deserves.

But always, they are with him. Poe and Rey and Finn. Sometimes all three, usually two, and occasionally only one of them.

Surprisingly enough, it’s usually Poe who is assigned as his lone guard.

Poe, who gives him the pain he craves, and the belonging he needs.

It is Poe who decides to remove the collars, both of them, restoring access to _everything_ and the sudden rush of sensation is overwhelming. It _hurts._

He falls to his knees on the dusty rock of this desert planet, gasping as the terror washes through him. He _can’t._

“You can.”

Oh. He hadn’t realized he said it out loud.

He feels Poe’s fingers thread through his hair, caress the silky strands, hisses as the other man makes a fist, jerking just this side of too hard, and the pain settles him.

“Ben. Listen to me. You can do this. I’m here, and you can—you _will_.”

_Ben._

_Yes._

He is Ben, but not _again_.

Ben nods, takes one slow breath, and turns his attention to the rubble, still on his knees. He had worried he would forget, wouldn’t be able to control it, but as Poe tugs at his hair, guides his head around whatever remains of the settlement, everything snaps into place, falls over him in crystalline layers.

Once he remembers the _how_ , the work goes quickly, debris cleared in a single day so that the real work may begin.

They don’t stay for that part.

Not yet.

As the sun sets, he looks out at what he has accomplished. He is exhausted, drained in a completely different way than if he had done even a portion of the work by hand. He trembles as he recalls, as his mind whispers how _easy_ it would be to undo it all, to leave only dust. He bites his lip on a sob, tastes blood as he looks desperately around him for Poe.

“Hey, you’re fine,” Poe says, somewhere to his left. He turns, ready to beg, but Poe knows what he needs. The collar snaps into place, the supple leather an intimate caress.

“No! Poe, I need…you have to do both. _Please._ ”

“You’re fine,” Poe says again, grabbing the ring at the front and tugging. “I know what you need.”

He relaxes, body pliant. Poe knows. Poe always knows. Poe might break him apart and put him back together, but Poe won’t ever let him _break_.

Rey and Finn are waiting when they return home. _Home._ An odd word to use for yet another impersonal set of rooms on yet another planet. But it _is_ home. Rey and Finn and Poe are _here_ and that is _home_ enough.

The bed is too small, barely holding three of them. That has happened before, but always before there was another bed, enough space for all four of them to have _somewhere_ other than the floor. Poe is angry, insistent that this was intentional on the part of _someone_ , that the arrangements for their accommodations had been changed.

Ben still isn’t accustomed to anyone—much less Poe Dameron—being angry on his behalf. And it is on Ben’s behalf. The bed they’ve been given is not just narrow. It’s short, as short as what passes for a sofa in the sad excuse for a living room. Someone, somewhere, has gone out of their way to make sure Ben has to sleep on the floor. He can’t find other accommodations. One of the stipulations of the arrangement they made for his “work-release” is that he must remain with his…whatever word fits best for Poe and Finn and Rey.

He sighs, begins gathering what extra linens they have been provided and arranging them into a pallet on the floor. It’s not soft, and it certainly won’t be warm, but the threadbare sheet and blankets are clean. Finn leaves the bedroom, stepping into the small living room and Ben can hear him shuffling around. Then Rey is suddenly standing beside him, staring down. “Help me with this,” she says, and he realizes she is tugging at the mattress.

“It’s not going to make a difference,” he mutters, but he moves his extra linens and helps her slide the mattress to the floor just as Finn comes back in, carrying the cushions from the sofa. Wordlessly he arranges them beside the mattress. The cushions are thicker than the mattress, and it’s still too short, but there may be just enough space for all of them now, if they get creative with angles and everyone sleeps on their side. Not that any of that ever works.

Poe is the only one who sleeps on his side (though left to his own devices he would probably sleep on his back). Ben sleeps on his stomach, usually, or on his side curled in the fetal position when he’s had a particularly bad time of late. Finn inevitably turns onto his back. Rey sprawls across all three of them, sometimes on her back, other times on her stomach, but stretched out so she is touching them all, as much skin contact as she can get.

But it’s better than the floor and they’re trying, and he can _feel_ how truly angry Finn and Rey are as well. They agree with Poe, and it’s not that Ben doesn’t. He just always expects worse treatment and he is _resigned_.

“Only a few days,” Rey whispers, tugging him down and curling into him, Finn on her other side. That leaves the sofa cushions for Poe and that just won’t do. Ben moves, rolling and sliding until he can feel the hard edge of the mattress seam, until his broad frame is tilted a bit on the cushions, first higher than the mattress and then dipping down as the cushions give under his weight. Rey giggles and follows him, Finn crawling behind her until they are both stretched _across_ the mattress, feet hanging off the far side. Rey settles in close to his waist, tugging the waist of his sleep pants down just until the crest of his hip is exposed, her lips and tongue teasing before her teeth set in, leaving a perfect bite mark on his skin. He barely has time to enjoy the sensation before Finn is kissing him, one hand cupping his jaw, bearing down just enough and he whines into Finn’s mouth.

Rey is still there, kissing her way across the planes of his stomach, pausing to bite here and there but never quite hard enough to leave another mark. Ben wants her to mark him, thinks he might just die from pleasure if she would maybe even bleed him a little. She knows it, pulls back, turns her attention to Finn. He wants to follow, to lock Finn between them, meet Rey for kisses over him, but Rey has one hand on his chest, a firm hold telling him not to move, and Finn is snaking one hand into his hair, fisting his locks with that glorious pressure that is always just this side of too much, just that little bit harder than Poe ever tugs, and Ben gasps, squirms for them, eyes locked on the pair kissing above him as they hold him down, leave him wanting.

There is a sound in the doorway, a light step, a surprised exhale. At this angle he can barely see Poe, leaning in the doorway and watching them, a stack of extra bedding in his arms. Ben holds out a hand, a silent entreaty, and Poe gives him a smile, the one that comes with lust darkened eyes and a hard edge, and Ben shivers in anticipation. “You know better than to start without me,” Poe growls into the room, the slap-slap of his bare feet carrying him over the chilly flooring and into the room. Rey pulls back from Finn slowly, eyes only half open. The hand in Ben’s hair loosens, fingers combing absently through the dark waves, and Ben can’t decide whether he mourns the loss of the sharp burn or wants more of this gentle caress.

“You were gone too long,” Rey says. “Ben tried to sleep on the floor.” She looks down at Ben, the hand that had been pressing against him now trailing over him in a light caress before she glances over her shoulder at Poe again. What Ben can see of the look she gives Poe is mutinous.

Poe reaches out, traces one finger down the side of her face, and Rey leans into the touch with a sigh, gasping as Poe traces farther down, along the side of her neck, before his whole hand grips the back of her neck, tugging her up high on her knees as he leans in close, lips almost touching hers. “Rey, I said you know better than to start without me. I never. Said. Stop.” Then Poe is kissing Rey, shoving her back against Finn as he lowers himself to the edge of the small mattress, the extra blankets a forgotten heap on the floor nearby.

Ben watches, wants to join them, to kiss and taste and _touch_ , but he hasn’t been given permission. He waits, _wants_. This, this is perhaps his most favored punishment, the game he most often wishes to play. He doesn’t try to hold back his own needy sounds, the whines and groans and whimpers, as he squirms and writhes there beside them. He can’t _not_ move, one hand fisted in the sheet under him, fabric bunched now, and the other in his own hair as Poe switches his attentions from Rey to Finn.

Something is building in the room around them, a faint buzzing in his ears—inside his _mind_ —that slowly coalesces into whispers and the sound he lets out then is one of terror as he lurches up, thrusts himself back against the wall, and curls into a ball, arms protectively over his head.

 _Stay back,_ he wants to say. _Keep away, not safe_ , he tries to tell them, but the words won’t come and his mind is whiting out as he loses the last of his control, gives into the terror, and the voices latch on, pouring through him and a deafening roar.

As suddenly as it began, it stops, and he knows only blessed silence.

Sensation comes back slowly. The room seems dark, too dark, still, but there is a hushed sort of peacefulness as the sounds of ragged breathing—his _and_ theirs—and the hiss of the building’s air processors press against him, gently seeking entry.

Touch is next. He can feel them, now, there around him, and something soft under his back. It takes longer than it should to realize that he’s been moved to the mattress, lying on his back in a tangled heap of bodies.

Finn is on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing his forehead against Ben’s, whispering soundlessly against his lips. Rey is curled on his left, head pressed to his shoulder and his arm trapped under her torso, her own arms wrapped around it. That leaves Poe as the firm press of warmth on his right, one leg thrown over him and his left arm on the top of Ben’s head. His right must be on Finn’s back…

More sound filters through now.

“ _Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben_.” Rey, that one is Rey, his name a breathy whisper against his bicep.

“ _Safe. You’re safe here. Only us. You’re safe, Ben._ ” Finn, against his lips.

“ _I’m sorry, so sorry_.” Over and over, an agonized, strangled whisper from Poe.

Ben is confused. Why is Poe sorry? It’s not his fault Ben is broken beyond repair, a beacon for the darkness.

“NO!” Finn practically screams the word in his face, an animalistic snarl twisting his face. “No. Not broken. Damaged maybe, but never beyond repair.”

Rey echoes him, shifting and burrowing in past Finn until she is able to press her face into Ben’s neck, the side of his face.

“My fault,” Poe says softly, stroking gently at Ben’s hair. “I pushed too hard. You tried to tell me you weren’t ready.” It takes longer than it should before he realizes what Poe means, remembers there is only one collar on his neck. A single tear slips free, running over Ben’s face, almost dripping into his ear before Finn catches it with his lips, kisses it gently away, before turning and softly pressing those same lips to Ben’s. Just once, just a reassuring press and then he is gone, sitting up and then moving to the side, settling in by Rey.

Poe’s hands reach out, working at the buckle on the leather, removing it and dropping a line of gentle kisses at the hollow of Ben’s throat, over his collar bones, down over his heart. His mouth forms a word again, brushing softly over Ben’s chest.

_Sorry._

Poe leaves them, but he is back before the panic can return, before the whispers come back in that rushing, white-out roar. Poe drops back down beside him and then both collars are back and he can _breathe_ again.

They hold him, all three of them, Rey stretched atop him this time, with Poe and Finn on either side. The occasional stroke of a hand or press of lips is comforting, and he slowly lets himself relax into it.

Other than the fact that his feet are hanging off by several inches, they almost fit on the small mattress this way.

He realizes Poe is curled on the side with the cushions, and he tries to protest, but Rey kisses him then, all lips and tongue and teeth, and the words—the very ability to speak—flees. The three of them work as a single unit, methodically stripping off clothing until all four of them are bare, and then they return to their previous positions, content to just cuddle against him for a while.

Eventually, Rey moves, sitting up on his abdomen, fingers dancing over his skin as she traces the line of a scar on his chest. It’s not the one she gave him, the one that starts on his face. He has others. Older ones, faint but there. Finn’s lips follow Rey’s fingers. Then Poe joins them, all three taking turns tracing his scars with fingers and mouths.

He can’t stop the tears, can’t keep his eyes open, can’t _look_ at them.

Can’t bear to see the pity.

It’s Finn who stops them, forces him to open his eyes. “Look at me, Ben. Look at _us_. This isn’t about pity.”

And it’s true. It’s not pity he sees when he forces his eyes open, angrily swipes away the tears that just _Won’t. Stop. Coming._

He doesn’t see pity. Doesn’t _feel_ it.

Only acceptance.

Only love.

They urge him over, repeating the actions on the back of his body, whispering words of praise and love in his ears, against his skin.

It’s too much.

It’s the only time he has ever said the word, the only time he has wanted—needed—everything to stop. They draw back immediately, watch him carefully as he turns, sits up, leans back against the cold wall. They wait as he catches his breath, swipes at his eyes again.

He doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve _them._

“Everyone deserves to be loved, Ben,” Rey says softly, one hand coming up as if she will touch him, but she hesitates, freezing mid-motion. He’s not sure whether the sound that forces its way from his throat is a laugh or a sob as Rey stares at him, hand still extended. He can see the desperation in her eyes, the need for him to take it, feels that need echoed in his own soul, and he reaches out, fingers brushing over her palm.

Some tension in the room breaks as skin meets skin, as his fingers glide across her palm, Rey taking a shaky breath as she grips his hand.

The four of them collapse into a tangled pile again, just holding on until sleep claims them, one by one.

It’s not perfect, and it needs work— _they_ need work, always, the way all relationships do.

He may not have found the right word yet, for what the four of them are together, but it’s _right,_ and it’s _good._

He’s never felt so safe, so at peace, as he does here and now, in this too-small bed on this planet he can’t recall the name for, held by six hands and a collar. He doesn’t know the right word yet, the term for the three people he loves most and would destroy worlds for, but he thinks again that it’s _home_ and right now that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> There are two playlists linked in the series notes, one for Rey/Poe/Finn before Ben joins them and one for the four of them.
> 
> Also, there is a plan for one last one-shot in this series (that's always been the plan) to be titled Absolution, and then it will technically be complete unless another scene like Christened creeps up on me.


End file.
